


Mere Mortals

by Ischa



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: Set after the events of Dawn of justice. In which Clark is hiding out on the farm, having nightmares, until Bruce comes to get him.“They're back, alright. I still – I can't go back.”“Yet?” Bruce asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and forcing Clark to stop too, to look at him. Bruce's eyes were sharp, his hair windblown and he looked – human. In all Clark's memories he didn't look human at all. Even in those from the gala he seemed bigger than life, angry, ready to punch Clark. He had nightmares about that gala too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Icalynn

~One~

_“Isn't it strange, that a piece of the planet you call home is the only material that can kill you?” The dark figure looking down at him asked._

_Clark knew it was Batman, was Bruce. Clark also knew that Bruce hadn't actually said these words. Because he remembered every single one of the Batman's words while they were fighting._

_It didn't matter right now either, that Clark knew this wasn't real._

_It felt real._

_“From Krypton,” Bruce said, positioning the spear on Clark's chest, “With love.” And he smiled as he pushed down and Clark screamed._

He woke up with a scream lodged in his throat that treated to suffocate him. He fisted his hands in the sheets and breathed. He could feel sweat on his skin. 

“That's fear,” Bruce's voice said in his mind. 

Clark shook his head. He knew it was fear. 

He was hiding here, on the farm, since he dug himself out of his own grave three months ago. No one knew he was alive. First because the only thing he had remembered was the farm and his mother, then because he didn't want to go back into the world and face all those people without his powers. Hadn't wanted to be pitied. Now...he had no real excuse. 

His powers weren't back to normal yet, but they would be soon. He could see the progress every day. 

“Clark?” Mom asked. “Are you up?” 

“Yes,” Clark replied. He was up. He had to shower and change first, so she wouldn't worry about him more than she already did. 

“Good, I made breakfast, but I'm off to church now,” Mom said. 

“Okay, Mom. See you later.” 

There was a short pause and then she said, “Yes, see you later. Love you.” 

“Love you too, Mom.” He rubbed his hand over his face. Well, he could take his time then with the shower. He had forgotten it was Sunday. The days were bleeding into each other. That was not a good sign. 

He got up and switched the shower on. Didn't wait until the water was warm before he stepped in. “From Krypton with love? Really, what the fuck, Kent,” Clark said to himself. Bruce would never say something so stupid. Especially not when he was wearing the cowl. 

He shook his head, sending water droplets flying. He knew he should reach out to Bruce. Let him and Diana know that he was alive and well. More or less. Something was holding him back, however. The dreams. They were getting worse. He wasn't ready to look Bruce in the eyes. He could still feel Bruce's boot against his throat sometimes. He hated (and cherished) the feeling of being so helpless. Of feeling so human. 

He shut the water off, toweled himself dry and put on some clothes. 

It was time for breakfast and some chores. 

~+~

He couldn’t stay away from it completely. He didn't have the cape and suit. He didn't know where they were. He hadn't been buried in them. He hadn't asked Mom about it either. A part of him didn't want to know. Didn't want it back. Didn't want to look at the hole in it and feel the phantom pain in his chest. 

But he couldn’t stay away, because helping people was a part of him. Had been for most of his life. It had been small things at first. Building fires and car accidents. But soon he was flying all over the world, helping out as best he could. Like back when he hadn't been Superman. When he hadn't known who he was and where he came from. It was like this now, except that he was coming back to the farm. Wasn't wandering the world and searching for himself. He wasn't a lost boy anymore. 

He was a man. 

Clark just didn't know if he wasn't a lost man. 

~+~

“Bruce,” Mom said. She was on the phone and Clark knew it was a bad habit to listen in, but – she was talking to Bruce Wayne. 

Clark was down the stairs in a matter of seconds, just staring at her while she was looking at him. 

“Mrs. Kent, I was wondering...,” there was a slight hesitation in his voice before he laughed. “Never mind. How are you?” 

“Good, Bruce, really good. How are you? How is Diana?” 

Diana, Clark thought. His mother was friends with the Batman and Wonder Woman and it wasn't strange for her. Clark had brought these people into her life. 

“Keeping me on my toes,” Bruce said with a laugh and it sounded sincere, Clark thought and he wondered how it looked on Bruce's face. Suddenly he didn't want to listen to Bruce's voice anymore. He ran outside and he was airborne a few moments later. He flew as far as he could, hiding between the clouds and listening to nothing. 

He knew once he was back, Mom would ask again, about calling Bruce, about – going back. About not forcing her to lie anymore. 

Clark didn't want to deal with it right now. He flew faster. 

~+~

Mom was already sound asleep when Clark came back. He made sure she was already in bed before he sneaked back into the house. There would be time enough to talk about his future plans tomorrow at breakfast. He knew she wouldn’t make him go back to his old life, but he also knew that she didn't like having to lie to Bruce Wayne, Diana, Lois. 

Lois deserved better, but right now Clark wasn't able to do better. 

He fell onto the bed, buried his face in the pillow, and closed his eyes. Lois wasn't in Metropolis anymore. Clark had looked her up his second month back from the death. She was in England right now, but he knew she would take the first flight back if he just...

He wasn't ready. He didn't know what to say. 

He didn't know how to explain that he wasn't dead. Anymore. Because he had been. 

And now he wasn't. But he wasn't the man he had been before either. 

He was slowly realizing that there was no way he could just pick up where they had left off. 

He was starting to realize he didn't want to. 

 

~Two~

“Every time something strange and unexplained happens, it pings my radar,” Bruce said just quietly enough for Clark to catch it. For a second, Clark thought he was dreaming again. 

He turned slowly, holding a paper cup of coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other. “Bruce,” he said because he didn't know what else to say. He should have heard someone stepping behind him, but then this was a fucking cafe, of course people would have stepped behind him. 

“Clark,” Bruce said. 

“How did you find me?” Clark asked. Panic was rising up in his chest. Bruce looked perfectly normal. Dark coat, dark suit underneath. Dressed down obviously. 

“It's your favorite cafe,” Bruce said. “Your Mom told me about it. It's the bagels.” 

Clark blinked. Yes, that was all perfectly true, but still the question wasn't answered. 

“Are you getting something Mister or are you just holding up the line because you wanna score?” Someone asked and Bruce stepped away, as Clark's eyes snapped to the teenager who had just run his mouth. 

“Maybe we can talk somewhere else?” Bruce asked. 

Clark shook his head and then nodded. He could do this. He just didn't want to be alone with Bruce Wayne. 

“My car?” 

“No,” Clark said, taking a deep breath. “Let's walk around.” 

Bruce nodded. 

The air was crisp, early winter bleeding into the late autumn weather already. Clark took a sip of his coffee. 

“So how did you find me?” Clark asked. 

“As I said before, every time something weird happens it pings my radar. And I am a great detective. I pieced it together eventually. I was about to reopen your grave just to make sure, but then I thought, I'd try this first.” 

“I don't come here regularly,” Clark said. 

“There is a security camera on the other side of the street,” Bruce replied. 

Clark blinked. “You hacked into it?” 

Bruce shrugged, like it was no big deal. For Bruce it probably wasn't. “How long have you been back?” 

“Four months,” Clark answered, finishing his coffee. He threw the cup into the next trashcan he saw and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket. 

“And you haven't told anyone.” 

“Mom knows, of course.” 

“Of course,” Bruce said. “I can't even be mad about her lying about it.” 

Clark nodded. “She didn't like lying to everyone.” 

“You didn't even call Lois?” Bruce asked. 

“And say what? Hi, I'm back, let's pick up where we left off?” 

“Don't you think she deserves to know?” 

“Don't I get to decide what to do with this second life of mine?” Clark answered sharply. 

“Of course, it's your life, after all,” Bruce said. 

Clark took a breath. “When I came back, I was a mess. I didn't remember anything, except Mom and the farm. Didn't even remember Dad was dead. And then once it all came back, I knew I should have powers, but they weren't there.” 

“But they're back now,” Bruce said. It wasn't a question at all. 

“They're back, alright. I still – I can't go back.” 

“Yet?” Bruce asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and forcing Clark to stop too, to look at him. Bruce's eyes were sharp, his hair windblown and he looked – human. In all Clark's memories he didn't look human at all. Even in those from the gala he seemed bigger than life, angry, ready to punch Clark. He had nightmares about that gala too. 

Clark shrugged. “I don't know.” 

“Clark-” 

“I don't know. I don't know who I am. I don't know what I am. I died,” Clark interrupted sharply. “I died.”

“I know. I was there. I saw it,” Bruce said. There was something in his eyes for a second, something important, Clark thought, before Bruce turned away and started walking again. 

Clark fell into step with him easily. 

“When you're ready you know where to find me.” 

“Are you going to tell anyone?” Clark asked. 

“Diana, if that's alright with you. I work with her. I try to be better – sharing and all that.” He smiled wryly. Clark could see it out of the corner of his eyes. Could hear the amusement in his voice.  
Bruce seemed different. 

“Yes,” Clark said. “Yes, you can tell Diana.”

“Good, thank you.” Bruce said and then took out his phone, before Clark could do anything Bruce snapped a picture. 

“What the hell?” 

“Evidence. Because otherwise she'll probably think I was going insane.” He pocketed his phone and smiled. “I hope I'll see you soon, Clark.” 

Clark nodded. Bruce’s car had been following them and was now parked a few feet away. “It's Alfred, isn't it?” Clark asked, with a glance at the car. 

“Yes, of course.” They were at the car now.

For some reason Clark didn't want Bruce to leave just yet. “Bruce.”

“Yes?” Bruce asked, the car door was already open, but he turned to look at Clark. 

“The suit, the cape...what happened to them?” 

Bruce looked up at the sky for a moment like he was trying to decide how to answer. “I took it.” 

“You have it?” Clark asked.

“Yes. You can have it back, of course, when you're ready.” 

Clark wanted to ask why. Why did Bruce take it? Why did he still have it? Did mom know about it? Didn't she want it back? 

“Because I know where you live?” 

Bruce smiled, getting in the car. “Exactly. Just pick it up whenever. Call first.”

And then the car door was closing and Clark was torn between standing on the sidewalk and getting into it with Bruce. 

It was decided for him, when the car sped away. 

Clark took a breath and made his way out of the city, so he could fly home. 

~+~

“That's good,” Mom said once Clark told her about Bruce's visit over dinner. “I hated lying to him.” 

“I know, Mom. I'm sorry.”

She reached over the table and patted his hand. “It's alright. It's just he's done so much for me when you were gone. And – he seems like a good man.” 

“He is,” Clark said. Because Bruce was. In his own way a good man. He tried. It was just Clark's bad luck that Bruce didn't see Clark as a friend of humanity, but a potential destroyer of worlds. In hindsight it didn't help that Clark had been criticizing the Batman. He had practically called Bruce lawless scum. Once he knew who the Batman really was...well, he had known for sure that Bruce would at least try to rescue his Mom. 

“Maybe he can help with getting your life back, Clark,” Mom said into his musings. 

“Sorry?” 

She smiled. “I said, maybe he can help get you your old life back. You're still technically dead and I don't really know how to spin this, Clark, because everyone saw you in that casket. Why did we have an open casket...” she sighed. 

“Mom, there had been no way for you to know that I wouldn’t stay dead.” 

“I know. I know Clark,” she smiled. That watery smile again, that he didn't know what to do with. So he got up and hugged her close. 

She squeezed his arm. “I know. I'm so glad you're back.” 

“Me too, Mom,” Clark said and meant it. 

 

~Three~

“You're all wet,” Bruce said. 

“It was raining,” Clark replied. He was standing on Bruce's porch, so to speak, because the Lakehouse didn't have a porch. It didn't really look like a house at all. More like a string of cubes. A chain of display windows. “Are you going to let me in?” 

“I don't know. Do I have to invite you?” Bruce asked. 

Clark blinked, then smiled. “No, I'm not a vampire, Bruce.” He shoved Bruce aside gently and entered the Lakehouse. 

“You want your cape back?” Bruce asked. “And didn't I tell you to phone ahead? I could have been out.” 

“I would have waited, if you had been out. I'm sure by stepping on your porch I triggered a million proximity alarms.” 

“Not a million...” Bruce said, disappearing into what Clark thought was a bathroom and reappearing with a big fluffy towel. 

“I'm not here for the cape.” Clark smiled, taking the offered towel. “Thank you.” He started to dry his hair and face and took off his wet jacket 

“What then?” Bruce asked, as he made his way to the kitchen. Clark followed. He took out two mugs and started to make coffee.

Clark sat down at the breakfast bar. “Mom thinks you could help me get my old life back.” 

Bruce paused, before he pressed a few buttons on the very complicated looking coffee machine. “What do you think?” 

Clark stared at the table top. He knew what Bruce meant with that question and it wasn't about Bruce's competence or power. “I liked being Clark J. Kent.” 

“But do you want your old life back?” Bruce pressed. 

Clark sighed, looked up at the ceiling. “I want parts of it back.” 

“Which parts?” 

“Being a reporter. Being Superman...not now, but soon. I like helping people. I'm good at it.” 

“Yes, you are,” Bruce said, pouring coffee into the mugs and putting one in front of Clark. 

“Thank you.” 

“Don't mention it,” Bruce said. “So, that, I think I can spin somehow. It won't be easy and I can't do it now. It will take some time.” 

Clark nodded. “I appreciate your help, Bruce.” 

“Did you really think I would not help you?” Bruce asked. There was something sharp in his voice that reminded Clark too much of the first time they met at Lex's party. 

“Honestly? I hoped you would, even if it was for Mom. But I don't know you. I never really knew you before. I didn't like you as you and I really didn't like you as Batman.” 

Bruce smiled wryly. “You trashed the Batmobile-”

“Batmobile, really?” 

“Shut up. It's mine, I can call it whatever the hell I want. As I was saying, you trashed the Batmobile just to make a point.”

“It was petty,” Clark said. “I thought I was in the right. But I was wrong. You were right. I didn't know Gotham. I still don't know Gotham.” 

Bruce sipped his coffee in silence and Clark followed his example. Once Bruce finished the coffee he looked at Clark. 

“You could come patrol with me tonight,” he said. 

Clark's eyes snapped to his. He was ready to say yes and then he remembered the dreams. The nightmares, really. And he didn't know if he wanted to see Bruce in his Batsuit. Clark's fingers curled hard around the mug, he heard it break, but couldn’t make himself let go. 

“Clark?” 

Clark breathed. “No, thank you,” he said and then looked down at the spilled coffee and the porcelain pieces. “Shit, I'm sorry.” 

“No need,” Bruce said, getting up and grabbing a few paper towels. He cleaned up and then sat down again. Looking at Clark. 

Clark had no idea what to say. Bowing out gracefully was probably out of the window. Now that he broke that mug. Bruce surely knew that something was wrong. 

“You want to talk about it, Clark?” 

“About what?” 

“About whatever scared you right now.” 

“I wasn't – it's not fear,” he said. But it was fear. He knew it. Bruce knew it too. But there was no way he could tell Bruce that his nightmares were all about him, the Bat, before. 

“You don't have to talk to me,” Bruce said, ignoring Clark's lie. “You could talk to a specialist.” 

“A shrink? Really? Did you try that?” 

Bruce nodded. “Obviously not as the Batman, but as Bruce Wayne? Yes.” 

“I didn't know.” 

“Of course not. Why would you?” Bruce said, calmly. “Think about it. I can recommend someone.” 

Clark nodded. “Thank you, for everything.” He got up and looked outside. “The view is beautiful.” 

Bruce stepped beside him and Clark liked it. Liked the solid and warm frame Bruce presented. 

“You're welcome to it any time, Clark.” 

“The rain stopped. I should fly home.” 

“Give your mother my compliments,” Bruce said. 

Clark grinned. “So polite. Now I know why Mom likes you.” 

“The old Wayne charm, Clark. The old Wayne charm,” Bruce said. 

“See you soon, Bruce,” Clark replied. 

Bruce only nodded and opened the window so Clark could fly home. 

~+~

_He was in the Lakehouse. He knew that there was a world outside, but in his dream. In this nightmare everything he could see was darkness. Blackness, really, because nothing was moving. No shadows, no shades of gray. The inside was awash with soft yellow light. Clark's heart was racing for no good reason. He couldn’t see anyone, he couldn't hear anyone or anything, but he knew that he wasn't alone in the Lakehouse._

_Something was stalking him. He knew it. He knew what it was too._

_“You're not brave...men are brave.” The Batman whispered in Clark's ear. He spun around, but found nothing. Light, furniture, the blackness outside the windows._

_Nothing there. Just a voice. Just some nightmare creature._

_Just a dream._

_“You're not brave, not brave...not brave...”_

_“Shut up! I died for you!” Clark screamed._

“I died for you!” He whispered staring at the darkness. His heart was racing. His fingers were itching to switch on the bedside lamp. He closed his eyes instead. 

He was afraid. He was afraid of the Batman. 

The first step to recovery was admitting you had a problem. 

Clark bit back a laugh. 

He had a problem alright. And the only way to solve it was to confront it. He had to spend more time with Bruce. Maybe take him up on his offer to patrol. 

His palms were sweating just thinking about it. 

“That's how you know it's a good idea, Clark. He told you he would show you fear...and he did.” 

Bruce didn't hate him anymore. Bruce had invited him into his home. Into his city. 

Clark opened his eyes, grabbed his phone from the nightstand and sent Bruce Wayne a text message. 

~+~

“I’m surprised, actually,” Clark said, sitting down at the breakfast bar again, “That you just let me in. I mean…you’re you.” 

“Paranoid, you mean?” Bruce said. He was pressing buttons on the coffee maker again, not looking at Clark. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know, and to be honest if I had known sooner about your resurrection, I would have insisted on keeping you contained somewhere until we could say for sure it’s really you and not something wearing your face. But your mother kept you at her home. She was around you all day, every day. I think, I can trust her to know it’s you, Clark.” 

Clark smiled. “Now I’m really glad that I didn’t call any of you up as soon as I dug myself out.” 

“You said in your text you wanted to talk?” Bruce asked, changing the subject rather abruptly, Clark thought. But that was Bruce too, that no nonsense behavior. He wouldn’t let Clark back out now. 

“Yes, I was thinking about what you said. I mean…a lot, about going out, and patrolling.”

Bruce poured coffee and put a mug in front of Clark. “You want to patrol with me?” 

“I assumed that once I’m back, wearing the blue and red, that we would work together. With Diana and – the others you’re recruiting.” 

“Yes,” Bruce said. 

“Good. I’m not ready yet and maybe I should wait until Clark Kent’s life is restored anyway, but…” he trailed off, not really knowing what he was trying to say. 

“You want to see if we can work together.” 

That, Clark thought. “Yes. We did before, but it wasn’t really planned or controlled or…It had been messy and violent.” 

“Yes,” Bruce said and took a sip of his coffee. 

“So…essentially I want some bonding time, I guess. With crime fighting, so I won’t go crazy.” He grinned at Bruce, but Bruce wasn’t smiling back. 

“Gotham is different, Clark.” 

“If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be you and I wouldn’t be me,” Clark said. 

“You’ll need dark clothes and a mask,” Bruce said.

“A mask?” 

“Yes, we don’t want anyone knowing who you are. And on that note, no powers. You can use them sneakily, if you need to, but try to keep it to a minimum.” 

“Because we don’t want anyone to know that there is someone with powers in Gotham, working with the Batman,” Clark said. 

“Yes. You want to start tonight?”

Clark didn’t, but he made himself nod anyway. “Yes.” 

“Good.” 

~+~

Clark was nervous and the mask was itchy. And the cave was cold and Bruce was here somewhere donning the cowl and cape. And Clark was not freaking out about seeing Bruce for the first time as the Batman since he died. Not at all. 

“Master Clark,” Alfred said patiently. 

“It’s just…strange. How can Bruce stand it?” Clark asked. 

“He’s had years of getting used to it,” Alfred replied calmly. “Please stop playing with the mask.” 

Clark snatched his hand away guilty. The mask was the only thing not his. He wasn’t wearing a cape either and he missed the comforting feel of the heavy material. “Sorry.” 

“It’s only for tonight,” Alfred assured. “Maybe next time we could just paint something on your skin.” 

Clark smiled. “With finger-paint?” 

“Would you like that?” Alfred asked. 

“I think it’s better than this thing,” Clark replied honestly. 

“Robin had worn one of those,” Bruce said out of the shadows and then he was standing in the light and Clark’s heart was beating too fast in his chest. Bruce was every nightmare Clark had in the last few months. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult-”

“Clark, are you alright?” Bruce cut in sharply. And even his voice was different. Darker, meaner. 

“Yes…just. You.” He closed his eyes and breathed. 

“You sure you’re ready to go out?” 

Clark nodded, eyes still closed. “Yes.” 

“Clark, look at me.” 

“I can’t,” Clark said, clawing at the mask. “I can’t.” 

“Alfred,” Bruce said and then Clark could feel deft, but gentle fingers on his face and the mask was off and he was staring at Alfred’s face. 

“Clark.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t-” look at you, but he couldn’t say it. 

“It’s alright,” Bruce said. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Yes,” Clark said. 

 

~Four~

Bruce wasn’t stupid, Clark knew that. He would figure it out. Had probably figured it all out already. 

Clark called his Mom and told her he would spend the night at Bruce’s place and she had made some joke about sleepovers. 

He felt better after talking to her. 

Alfred made him something to eat and then disappeared into the cave, and because Clark couldn’t stand being alone, and feeling exposed in this damn window display box of a house, he went down to the cave too. 

“When does he come home, usually that is?” Clark asked. 

Alfred didn’t look up from the piece of machinery he was working on. “In the early morning hours.” 

“He doesn’t sleep much, does he?” Clark wanted to know as he was wandering the cave, marveling at all these – things. Half of which he had no idea what they were for. The cave felt more like a reflection of Bruce than the house above. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Alfred replied. “Do you?” 

Clark sighed. “It hadn’t been a problem before, but since I’ve come back I’ve had nightmares.” 

“Understandable, I think, Master Clark,” Alfred said. 

Clark had half a mind to tell Alfred to call him Clark, but he was pretty sure that it wouldn’t go over very well. There was something about Alfred that made it easy to like the man. That made it easy to talk to him as well. But still Clark was holding back, because he wanted to talk to Bruce first. 

“I’m sure once I figure this all out, it will get better,” Clark said. 

“Could you hold this for me, for a second, please?” Alfred asked and Clark stepped closer. 

“Yeah, sure, what is it?” Clark asked. 

As Alfred started to explain the part he was working on, Clark started to relax even more. 

~+~

Clark was upstairs when Bruce came back, so he didn’t see him in the Batsuit. He smelled Bruce from across the house, however. Some spicy shower gel, water, and beneath something uniquely Bruce. 

Not a hint of leather or Kevlar. 

“I made coffee,” Clark said as Bruce entered the kitchen. 

“I honestly didn’t expect you to be here,” Bruce replied, but took the offered mug. “I don’t think I should be drinking coffee right now either.” 

“Of course, I would be here. We…I’m sorry I freaked out about going out tonight.” 

“You’re not afraid of Gotham,” Bruce said, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“I-”

“You’re afraid of me,” Bruce cut him off.

“No, not of you. Not like this. I – it’s the suit, the voice, the Batman,” Clark said. 

“Clark,” Bruce replied, putting the mug down. He ran a hand over his face. He looked tired and Clark felt horrible for keeping him up, but he had to clear the air. He wanted to work with Bruce. “I am Batman. Batman is me.” 

“Well, Bruce Wayne didn’t punch me in the face and he sure as hell didn’t teach me fear. He didn’t put his boot to my throat either,” Clark said sharply. 

“I can hardly go out like Bruce Wayne on patrol.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I just…it’s not you. It’s the suit.” 

“Tell me about it,” Bruce said. 

“About what?” 

“The nightmares, Clark. Tell me about the nightmares you have about me.” 

Was that a good idea? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Do I want to hear it? No,” Bruce admitted. “Because they were hardly my finest moments, but do I need to hear it? I think so. But what is more important, is that you need to tell someone. I think I should be that someone, Clark. After all I created the Batman to be feared.” 

“Okay, okay…I – it’s not always the same dream. Sometime I relive the fight, the fear, the gas in my lungs, the feeling of suffocating. You towering over me. You…your voice. The armor. Feeling helpless and falling. Sometimes it’s none of that, sometimes it’s different. Sometimes you kill me. I look up at you and there is nothing human underneath the Batsuit. I can’t see your eyes, and your voice is a metallic hiss and you put the spear to my chest and you push. And I wake up biting back a scream.” He looked at the floor, because he couldn't look at Bruce. “And did you really want to know all this?” 

“I already know, Clark. I was there,” Bruce answered. “I prepared for this. I wanted to kill you, I thought I could.”

“You could have,” Clark said. “I didn’t think you had a chance. I was foolish to think you would do anything halfarsed.” 

Bruce’s lips curled into a small smile. “I wanted to kill you, because I thought I had to, because I thought I hated you, but I didn’t hate you, Clark.” 

“You hated Superman?”

“No,” Bruce said. “I was afraid.” 

Clark nodded. “So, where does that leave us? Because I’m against a real shrink, Bruce.” 

“You still want to work with me and the League, right?” 

“Yes,” Clark answered. 

“So we have to strip away your fear of the Batman.” 

“I don’t think I will like whatever you want to do.” 

“You’ll be fine. It will be a walk in the park,” Bruce said. “Meet me here, tomorrow?” 

“Today, later today?” Clark asked, because it was already morning. 

“No, tomorrow. I will sleep as long as I can manage and then I’ll have to show up at the office.” 

Clark nodded. “Okay.” 

“See you tomorrow, Clark.” 

~+~

“Alfred,” Clark said when Alfred let him in. 

“Master Bruce is in the cave. He’s waiting for you.” 

No small talk then, Clark thought. It’s all business this time. “Okay, here I am.” 

“Good,” Bruce said. He was standing in the middle of the cave, and he was stripping.

“What-”

“I will put it on for you, you can watch and then I want you to take it off,” Bruce said matter of fact. 

“What?” Was Bruce joking? Clark looked at him hard. He didn’t seem like he was joking. He didn’t seem nervous either. 

“So you will get familiar with it. So you can feel that there is a living human being underneath the leather and Kevlar.” 

“And you think that will help?” Clark asked, dubiously. 

“Yes, I do. You can map it out, your mind will file it away. And next time you have a nightmare your brain might remember this. It’s worth a try, don’t you think?”

“Well, Mister ‘playboy’ billionaire, this surely isn’t what I expected. But okay. I’ll give it a try.” 

“You want to sit down for this?” Bruce said, pushing his pants down. 

“Yeah,” Clark said faintly. He grabbed the chair and sat down. Clark had known of course that Bruce was human, mortal, but seeing all the scar tissue everywhere, drove it home like nothing else had before. 

“You want me to name the parts?” Bruce asked and he was smirking. 

“No, I think I got it. Suit, cowl, cape, boots, gloves?”

“I like to call them gauntlets,” Bruce said. 

“Was that before they started to call you the Dark Knight or after?” Clark asked. 

“Before,” Bruce answered. 

“You know I looked into you, when I didn’t know who you were-”

“When did you find out?” Bruce cut in. 

“When I trashed you Batmobile. I peeked behind the cowl,” Clark admitted. 

“Didn’t think you would come all the way to Gotham for me,” Bruce admitted. He was putting on the boots now, slowly becoming the Batman. Clark was watching his hands, his fingers. Every movement was second nature to Bruce. 

“I only did it, because Perry said that no one cared if Clark Kent was taking on the Batman.” 

Bruce looked up. “So you thought people would care if Superman did. Because Superman is the good one, the one operating in the light. The one that doesn’t need to hide.”

Clark winced. He had thought that. “I already said I was wrong about you. And Gotham.” 

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad about it, Clark. Clearly I’ve been played by Luther too.” He was putting the cape on now and next would be the cowl. He looked at Clark. “You okay?” 

“Yes, it wasn’t too bad. But I can still see your face.” 

“Usually I would put some grease around my eyes, but I think we can forgo that,” Bruce said, pulling on the gauntlets. “The suit is booby-trapped too. But I don’t want you to get hurt once you start to remove it, so I didn’t bother with the traps now.” 

“I don’t think I could get hurt.” 

“We both know that is not true,” Bruce replied, and put the cowl on. “How do you feel?” 

Clark’s heart was racing again. He could feel the panic wanting to claw its way out, but he looked at the patches of skin visible and then behind the mask and saw Bruce’s face. 

“You’re scary,” Clark said, avoiding the question. 

“Come on, get up. Take it off,” Bruce said. “Don’t start with the cowl.” 

Clark nodded and stood, made his way to Bruce. He reached out tentatively and brushed his fingers against the Batsuit. The suit was scarred too. Like the man underneath it. “This is not the original one, is it?”

Bruce smiled and it was strange to see Bruce's smile on the Batman's face, but it helped too. “I don't think the original one still fits. I was lighter back then. Surely, you've looked at pictures of me twenty years ago?”

Clark nodded, running his fingers over the chest-plate and then spanning out. “Do you still have it or did you destroy it?” 

“I still have it. I still have all of them.” 

Clark's eyes snapped to Bruce's. “The armor too?” 

“Yes, the bits and pieces that didn't get destroyed fighting you and then Doomsday.” Bruce wasn't offering to show them to Clark and Clark was glad for it. “You can start any time, Clark,” he added. 

Clark felt a blush coming and took a deep breath. “This is therapy is it not?” 

“I guess,” Bruce answered. 

“So, don't rush me then,” Clark said, but he took one of Bruce's hands and started to remove the gauntlet. Bruce's skin was warm and even his fingers were scarred. 

“Take all the time in the world then, Clark,” Bruce replied, his breath was ghosting over Clark's skin. Just human, Clark thought. He's just human. 

He put the gauntlet on the table and started on the next one. Then he bent down and removed Bruce's boots, the socks, the suit followed, then the cape and once Bruce was only wearing his underwear and the cowl Clark stepped back and looked at him. 

Bruce let him. 

After what felt like an eternity to Clark, he stepped forward again and took the cowl into his hands, he pulled it off slowly, gently and then held it up. Just looking at it. Bruce grabbed his normal civilian clothes and got dressed. 

“Can I keep this?” Clark asked, not knowing why, but wanting it anyway. 

“Sure, I have spares.” 

~+~

_“It's time you learn what it means to be a man...” Bruce whispered into his ear. They were in the Lakehouse again. The night was pressing against the windows, but Clark didn't feel the terror rise inside him. He felt heat, and he shivered, but not from fear, he realized. Bruce's finger ran down his arm gently. Clark was wearing the Superman suit. “Any hidden traps?”_

_“No,” Clark replied. He swallowed. “You want me to take it off?”_

_Bruce laughed. “No, I want to take it off, Clark. It's only fair, don't you think? You already got to undress me. Did you enjoy it?”_

_Clark shook his head, but in the dream he knew he was lying. He had enjoyed it, but now he wasn't sure why exactly that was. Was it because he had revealed the man beneath the Bat? Or was it because he wanted to see Bruce vulnerable? Or because he wanted to see Bruce? Bruce offering himself to Clark?_

_“Liar,” Bruce said, gently. He found the hidden clasps of the suit in no time. Clark knew he should protest this, but he just – he didn't want to. Bruce's hands were warm and firm on his skin. Pushing the suit down, pulling at the cape. To his horror Clark could feel himself getting hard._

Clark woke up with a gasp. He blinked up at the ceiling. 

“Well,” he whispered. “Shit.” 

And then he took care of his erection. 

 

~Five~

Clark knew he had to make it work, because if he didn't, Bruce would try something else, or even the same thing again. 

So when Bruce invited him to Gotham again, to patrol, he said yes. 

“Grease paint?” Alfred asked, as Clark entered the cave. 

“Yes, I don't feel comfortable with the mask.” 

“Please sit down then, by now, I'm an expert at this,” Alfred said. 

“Thank you, Alfred,” Clark replied, sitting down. He could hear Bruce in the cave, close by. He could hear the rustle of clothes, leather, the Kevlar, the swish of the cape. He closed his eyes and only concentrated on that, until it gave way to something else. His eyes snapped open when he realized that he was listening to Bruce's heartbeat. 

“Something wrong, Master Clark?” Alfred asked.

“No, just got distracted,” Clark answered. 

“You should not get distracted out there,” Bruce said, coming closer. Most likely to inspect Clark's clothes and the paint on his face.

“I know how to do the job, Bruce. So? Do I pass?”

“Barely,” Bruce answered, but there was amusement in his voice. 

Clark smiled. It wasn't hard to look at Bruce now. Maybe Bruce had been onto something. “I'm ready when you are.” 

“You'll follow my lead. I don't suppose you'll need a comm?” 

“No, just whisper when you need to,” Clark answered. 

Bruce nodded. “Get in the car.” 

“The car?” Clark asked, stupidly. For some reason he hadn't thought about taking the car. But of course they would. They were miles outside of Gotham and Bruce – for all that it appeared he could – wasn't actually able to fly. 

“Yes, Clark. The car. There is no way, you're going to fly into Gotham.”

“Of course not,” Clark said, sarcasm in every word. 

“Get in the car, before I bench you.” 

“I'm not yours to bench,” Clark replied. 

Bruce didn't answer, just opened the car and got in. Clark had to speed a bit to get in, before Bruce left him there. 

~+~

One patrol turned to two and then three, four, until Clark stopped counting. It got easier seeing Bruce don the cape and cowl. It got easier to hear the Batman's voice. 

The dreams...changed, but Clark wasn't going to think about them now. 

At one point they stared to team up with Diana. 

“Undercover?” Diana had teased the first time he and Bruce showed up. Clark knew that she had been aware that he and Bruce were paroling together sometimes, but it was good to see her be able to laugh about Clark's outfit. 

She did crush him to her chest after the police had taken over. 

“I'm glad you're alright, Clark,” she said. “I'm mad at you too.” 

“I – I needed time, Diana. To sort things out,” Clark replied. 

“And you thought we wouldn't have given it to you?” She asked. 

Clark didn't know and that was the honest answer, so he told her that. 

“Fair enough,” Diana said, stepping away. “But I'm sure we will fix that. You and Bruce are working things out too, that’s good.” 

Clark wondered if Bruce had told her how they were working their issues out. If she knew that Clark was undressing – he stopped right there. “We're a work in progress.”

She smirked. “Aren't we all?” 

Clark laughed. It was true enough.

~+~

“You seem happier,” Mom said, a few weeks after Clark started to patrol with Bruce. It was strange. Clark had never really investigated crime. Not like Bruce was doing in his city. Clark went where he was needed, Bruce sought it out. 

“Yeah?” Clark asked. 

Mom smiled at him. “Yes. You're not hiding anymore.” 

“Well, just as much as Bruce does, I guess. It's good, I mean, being able to help people without being a symbol.” 

“Oh, Clark,” Mom said and hugged him. “You can be whatever you want to be now.” 

“I know,” Clark replied. 

~+~

“My legal team has figured out how to get Clark Kent's life back,” Bruce said. 

“Good morning to you too,” Clark replied, blinking. Bruce's call had woken Clark up and he was still a bit disoriented, because it had been one of those dreams again. Those he shouldn’t have, or think about, those in which Bruce was naked and Clark was kissing him. 

“I thought you would be up with the sun, Kent,” Bruce teased. 

“I can't decide if this is a Superman or a farmboy dig,” Clark said. 

“Both, I'm economical like that,” Bruce replied. 

“So, your legal team can get me my life back,” Clark said.

“Yes, I think you should come over tonight so we can talk about the consequences.” 

“Consequences?” 

“Lois for one, Clark,” Bruce said. 

Lois's name was like a bucket of cold water. “Right.” 

“You haven't told her yet,” Bruce said. It wasn't a question. 

“No,” Clark replied. The truth was, he hadn't thought about Lois at all. Not since the early days. How could he have forgotten her? He had loved her. He had wanted to marry her.

“Clark?” 

“I'm...fine. Just...yes, I will be there tonight. See you later,” he answered and didn't wait for Bruce's reply, just hung up. 

He had to talk to Lois. He had to talk to Lois before Clark Kent was resurrected.

~+~

“You look like death warmed over,” Bruce said. 

Clark sat down at the breakfast bar and stared at Bruce's back, as Bruce was making coffee. “I talked to Lois.” 

“I take it she didn't take it well?” 

“She had some suspicions of her own. Seems weird things ping her radar too,” Clark said. 

“She was angry,” Bruce said. Again, Clark thought, not a question. 

“Yes, she was angry,” Clark replied. “She had every right to be angry. I should have told her.” 

“Why didn't you?” Bruce asked, handing Clark a mug. 

“Because I forgot about her, Bruce. Fuck. I forgot about her, once I got my powers back, once I started to see you. I forgot about her.” He looked Bruce in the eyes. “Isn't it nice to know that I am not perfect? That I'm flawed like the rest of you?” 

“Us,” Bruce said. 

“What?” 

“Like the rest of us, Clark. You're one of us. Maybe you weren't born here, but you were raised here and you died here. You should really count yourself as one of the human race.” 

Clark could only stare at him. By now, he thought, he should be used to Bruce surprising him. “Bruce-”

“Don't beat yourself up over it. People fall in love, people fall out of love. It's human nature. She'll get over it. I doubt you were her first love.”

“I wasn't,” Clark said. 

“She was yours?” 

“Yes, I think, yes. The first woman I was in love with and could see myself getting old together.”

Bruce nodded. “You'll find someone again.” 

“She knew me. It was nice to have someone who knew me.” 

“Clark, she still knows you. Just because you're not in love anymore doesn't mean you have to ban her from your life. Relationships change. Look at us? From enemies to friends.” 

Clark nodded. “You're right.” 

“Of course, drink your coffee, there are a few documents I want you to look at.” 

“And with a few, you mean hundreds of pages in legal speak?” 

Bruce smirked. 

It suited him, Clark thought. Well, he was in trouble. 

~+~

“I don't want to be Superman,” Clark said, out of the blue, as soon as he landed on the deck. Bruce was doing pushups and Clark was fascinated by the play of muscles under that scared skin. 

“Yet? Anymore?” Bruce asked, without stopping what he was doing. 

“Aren't you shocked?” 

“No, I had a feeling you wouldn't jump back in just because Clark Kent had his life back,” Bruce answered. “Greatest detective and all that.” 

“Do people really call you that?” 

Bruce chuckled. “I didn't start a trend to make myself feel good, Clark.” 

“No, you wouldn't.” 

“Would you?” Bruce asked. 

“No,” Clark replied. 

“So, you don't want to be Superman. What do you want to do with your life then? With your powers, because I know you can't not do something.” 

Clark risked another glance at Bruce's back. “Did you ever think about quitting?” 

Bruce didn't answer immediately. He finished his pushups and then sat on the deck, looking out on the water. “Do you know how the Waynes made their fortune?” 

“Oil, railroads, the works,” Clark answered. He had looked into the Waynes.

“Yes, but the first generation? They traded with the French. Pelts and skins,” he looked at Clark then. His eyes piercing. “They were hunters.” 

“That's a no then,” Clark said. 

“I lost my way there for a bit, but I'm back on track. I'm a hunter, Clark. It's in my blood. I'll always be a hunter.” 

“Yes, some of your pursuits are legendary,” Clark said amused. 

“Are you gossiping? Or fishing?” 

“A bit of both, I think,” Clark answered. 

“Is Perry on your case again?” 

“He's going to make me cover the 'let them eat cake' beat for a while. As a punishment for dying or not dying. Or whatever.” 

“The what now?” 

“Don't play stupid, Bruce. The gossip. The rich and famous. Or infamous.”

“I knew what you meant, I just didn’t know you called it that. Rather harsh.” 

“I guess most reporters think the rich and famous don't really care for the rest of us.” He said, shrugging. 

“The rich and famous usually don't. Unless you make them.” 

“You care,” Clark said. 

“Don't spread that around, Clark.” 

“I won't,” Clark said. 

~+~

“You realize you're staring, right?” Bruce asked, not stopping his routine at all. Clark was in and out of the cave like he lived there. Bruce had made it clear in his own way that Clark was welcome there anytime. 

“Sorry,” Clark said, but how could he not stare? Was Bruce insane? Surely Clark read the weight wrong. But he knew he didn't. “Is that healthy?” 

“Look at me,” Bruce said. “What do you think?” 

“I thought you didn't want me to look.” 

“I didn't say that. I just pointed out that you were staring.” 

Clark looked at him sharply, Bruce was a fucking Sphinx sometimes. “I was wondering if you were insane.” 

“I thought you made up your mind about that already,” Bruce said. 

“I did,” Clark admitted. 

“And you're still coming back,” Bruce teased. 

“Maybe I'm here for the view,” Clark replied.

“Oh, I know you are here for the view,” Bruce said, putting the bar down and sitting up. 

He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his brow. It didn't sound like he was talking about the lake, Clark thought. “Greatest detective, remember?” 

“I make it a habit not to believe the hype,” Clark answered. 

Bruce got up and there was something predatory in his movements. Something not quite Bruce, not quite Batman, something in between. Something, Clark thought, that should be reserved exclusively for the bedroom. “I thought you would make a move by now. You never seemed the shy type. Telling me to stop being Batman and all.” He was smiling now. 

Clark swallowed. “Make a move?” 

“Hmm,” Bruce said. He was in front of Clark now. “You've been watching me.” 

“Yes...” Clark said. 

“And fishing,” Bruce continued. 

“Yeah...a bit?” 

Bruce laughed and then he grabbed Clark by the jacket and pulled him in. His breath was hitting Clark's skin and he smelled like sweat and Bruce and Clark wanted, because he had wanted for a long time now. 

“Are you going to make a move?” Bruce whispered.

“Will you punch me or kiss me back when I do?” Clark whispered back. 

“When, not if, Clark. You’ve already made up your mind,” Bruce licked his lips and Clark's eyes snapped to Bruce's mouth. 

“Yeah,” Clark breathed and closed the gap between their lips. 

It was a soft kiss, just a dry press of lips against lips, but Clark could already feel the passion in Bruce boiling. He couldn’t wait to see it unleashed.


End file.
